Between Life And Death
by He said evasively
Summary: After Lucy's legendary fight with Penelope Fitts, The Lockwood and Co. agency began to split up. When the team gets back together to investigate a haunted murder, Lucy stays behind to save the Skull, who's trapped in the Other Side. A quick 4-chapter read. Oh, and a bit of Locklyle. Rated T for mild language and suggestive themes.
1. A Whisper

I lay down, thinking hard.

The recent moonlit stroll with me and Lockwood (the seventh) had ended very nicely. My nerves were still humming. It was so strange for both of us, agents, to have weeks to ourselves. What was there to talk about besides ghosts, and ghost cases?

Mostly we ended up talking about the Other Side. It was guesswork and theorizing (which didn't seem to be Lockwood's specialty) but it was interesting, and it kept some memory of the Problem alive.

Things had been getting better—the haunting rates had plummeted rapidly, mortality rates have almost diminished. Ever since excursions to the Other Side had stopped, hauntings had all but disappeared. There were hardly any of them left.

George has become the head of the Orpheus Society, leading the country in theories and ground-breaking research. He's still a part of Lockwood and Co. of course, but he had his own things to do, his own adventures. After all, there were barely any hauntings left.

Holly had her own pursuits, and she could be practically anything. A nutritionist, secretary, model… her possibilities were endless.

Quill had recently become an art critique, which we all thought suited him very well. He dropped by from time.

So, as you can see, things were going very good, incredibly good-

It left me feeling hollow.

I had built my whole life around fighting ghosts—and now it seemed like there was no more to be fought. What was I to do now? Me and Lockwood were like the moldy leftovers that George sometimes left in the fridge—we had a purpose, but it was long gone, it was no longer needed.

Lockwood and I had been invited by inspector Barnes to help crack the underground network of relic-men. Now that hauntings were becoming rarer and rarer, each ghost source became even more valuable. It was hard work.

As for me?

I went back and forth, sometimes with George and his team of researchers, discussing the original source of the Problem, and sometimes with Holly, helping her out with whatever was her newest endeavor at the time. I attended art galleries with Kipps. Mostly, though, Lockwood preferred me by his side with DEPRAC, on adventures in dark tunnels and smuggling sources. With each passing adventure, Lockwood became more and more suicidal.

You see, last year, Lockwood had wanted to die, to go out with a bang, a sacrifice to a noble cause, a glorified figure in history. And I deprived him of that satisfaction. You see, I needed him too much, far too much.

I could tell, I knew, and no matter how much he confided in me with those evening strolls, he was holding back.

"The only thing keeping me here is you." He had told me, just this night, and it had terrified me.

I was lonely, and desperate, and feeling useless. And I missed my skull.

You heard me right, don't make me say it again. That charred piece of skull that I had depended on, that was so much a part of me was gone and I wanted it back. The remnants flashed green from time to time, but not strong enough for a physic connection. It was frustrating.

So I lied half-asleep, mulling all of my problems over in my head, while George snored downstairs, and the blade of Lockwood's thudding rhythmically as he practiced swordplay, right below my room, when a soft breeze ruffled my hair, and with it, an agonized whisper.

_"Lucy…"_

My fogginess dissipating in an instant, I sat up, and cradled the skull in my arms. The deep cracks that had scared the bone faintly glowed.

"Skull?" I whispered.

_"…"_

And it was silent again, the connection severed, and I let out a whoop of outrage. Lockwood's swordplay halted.

I had been so close. But I had heard it. Somewhere, the skull was still there.

It had been barely a whisper, but I was sure it was real. It had sounded strained in pain. I stood up and started pacing. The skull was in trouble. But where could it be?—

"Luce?" A frowning Lockwood stood in the doorframe.

I glanced up.

"I heard you shout. Are you alright?"

"No." I sat down and shivered. "But it will be fine. I need sleep." I needed to sleep on this.

"You look as if you've just seen a ghost." Lockwood said, before laughing softly at the accidental joke.

But my eyes were already closing.


	2. Murders and Lovers

"A haunting!" Lockwood was saying loudly at the breakfast table, while George crunched mightily on his buttered toast. Unfiltered sunlight shone in the room, the kind of sunlight you rarely and only get in London. Sausages sizzled in a pan behind me, and they smelled delicious. Pancakes, courtesy of Lockwood, were piled up on a plate, along with blueberries and whipped cream.

"Type two?" I asked.

"Yes!" Lockwood leaned forward, smoothing his curly hair back behind his forehead. "It's a bit far, Twickenham, but it's worth it. A murdered lover, ooh, how interesting…" His eyes gleamed, he glanced at all of us. "What do you say, for old time's sake? Pass me some of those potatoes, George."

"They're by your plate, Lockwood, but Lucy burned them. And of course." George said, unsuccessfully attempting to wipe away the leftover jelly on his upper lip. "I think it will be exciting. I haven't done a haunting in forever. Bring Kipps and Holly, and it will be a reunion."

"The spirit's bound to be violent." I advised. "We should take precautions. Is the haunting in a building, Lockwood?"

"A four-story mansion. It's huge."

"Bigger than these blueberries, I hope?" George said, staring distastefully at the small pile of blueberries by the orange juice, putting a couple on his pancakes.

"They're organic." I said. "I keep telling Holly to buy the cheaper ones- they're bigger."

"Food aside, how much time do you need to do research George?" Lockwood asked. He glanced down. "You know, I think I will try these potatoes. No use in not eating perfectly good potatoes."

"Do it at your own risk," George warned him. "And research won't be long, what with the Fitts library and archives at my disposal—" he winked. George, along with the Orpheus society, had been placed in charge of all libraries/archives in London. "It's a shame we burned down most of the Orpheus's library, Lockwood, there was so much information wasted. Speaking of burning—the sausages, Lucy."

As I got up to take the sausages out and start making the eggs, George began talking about Penelope Fitts. Or rather, Marissa.

"She kept amazing records. So many relics have been in storage." George was telling Lockwood, his elbow in his pile of ketchup.

"I'm going to bed." I said. "Need rest. Didn't get much of it yesterday." I frowned.

Lockwood raised an elegant eyebrow, but didn't question me.

I collapsed on my bed, limper than George's socks, as I rubbed my forehead. Yes, I didn't get much sleep—because I had been planning.

The skull was in pain. That much had been clear by his tone by his whisper "Lucy". . But did it matter? It was already dead. It was almost gone.

No—I had reached my conclusion at about 2:36. If the skull wasn't alive, then how could it feel pain? I had made it my mission to help anyone in need, and that was what made me an agent. I had to help the skull—it wasn't my choice otherwise.

The question remained- where was it?

But even then, I already knew the answer—I knew it, and I feared it. The Skull would be in Dark London. And I knew what I had to do. I had to make a portal to the Other Side.

When Inspector Barnes was briefed about the Fitts and Rotwell scientists making trips to the Other Side, it was deemed as dangerous, and the less the public knew about it, the better. Lockwood and Co had been trusted with this confidential information. What would kind of damage would it bring to Lockwood and Co if one of their employee's had contradicted these rules?

But if I didn't save the Skull, then I would be choosing safety over my dearest companion, the thing that seemed to know all the cobwebs and musty corners of my character, the deepest thoughts under my floorboards, the feelings that were nestled deep into my subconscious. It was… well… a friend. Someone who had saved my skin countless times. It was about time I paid it back. Saving the skull was my own debt to settle, not DEPRAC, nor anyone else's. And I intended to.

"Well." Lockwood was currently saying around noon, sprawled elegantly across an armchair. George was sipping tea from the other room. "A couple of specters roaming Chartington street, should be real easy, I bet. Want to come, Luce?"

I sighed, and the sigh sounded so old and ancient, the exhale of a hundred man, his final breath. I was weary and tired, and aching all over and for all sorts of things I couldn't have.

Lockwood noticed.

"Lucy, Lucy, what's wrong?" He asked, frowning. He got off from his chair and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm not feeling well." I lied easily, knowing it would be believed. "I think I'll stay here. Maybe take George."

Lockwood glanced away, hiding whatever emotion had temporarily flitted across his face. "Alright. We'll be back soon." He said carefully.

George lumbered into the room, yawning. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get my rapier."

As soon as the two departed, I jumped up, all drowsiness gone. Nimbly, I walked upstairs, entering Jessica's room. George had repainted her room months ago, so we had moved all of her stuff into the attic, including sprigs of lavender, and her ancient bed. It was a tranquil place- I sometimes went there when I was lonely. The lavender was, as Lockwood said, not to keep any ghosts away, but because they were her favorite. A strip of iron lined the doorway. It was a nice room, a little small and cold, but it was at least hers. Lockwood had placed pictures of his parents up on the shelf next to her bed.

As always, the pungent smell of lavender and rusting iron greeted me. There were still boxes piled up into the corner of the room, ones none of us had opened. They were sealed tightly with tape. I seized the first one and ripped the binding off with a jerk of my arm.

It reminded me, all those months ago, of when Lockwood and Co. had made a spirit-portal in Jessica's actual room, to escape Winkman's men. At that time, I had had the ghost with me, and it had helped me measure the strength of the physic power in each item in the boxes. Now, sans skull, I had to do it alone.

The first packaged artifact was an Aztec mask, its colors lovely but faded. No physic charge. I went through each thing carefully, putting aside curios. With time, I found a couple items of interest. A glass container with dried up leaves, a shriveled hand, and a beaded braid. Unfortunately, I had to use my own room for a spirit-portal.

Lockwood and George returned with a small source (a marble) and Florence Bonnard, also known as Flo Bones. Flo and George appeared to be deeply in conversation, while Lockwood approached me.

"Got plenty of rest, Luce?" He eyed my dirty hands, as we stood in the library.

"Oh yes- plenty."

"Is there any particular reason you felt like sleeping in my sister's room?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

I gulped. "How… how did you know I was in there?"

At this, Lockwood leaned forward and inhaled into my hair, which made me shiver a little. "You smell like lavender and rust." He said softly, his hands on my shoulders.

"Well, I was going through those unopened boxes…"

"Ah. Did you find anything?"

"Just curios."

Lockwood smiled warmly. "Oh? Nothing else?"

"W-well… I haven't gone through all of them."

"Excellent." He beamed, as he let go of my shoulders and held my hand. "We'll go through them right now."

Going with Lockwood through all of the potential sources that I planned to use as a spirit-portal wasn't exactly ideal… however, he ignored my protests, and we marched upstairs. As we walked into Jessica's room, I yelped suddenly.

"Wait!" I said frantically, taking my hands and putting them over his eyes. "Keep them closed."

He chuckled.

I scampered around none too gracefully, picking up the sources I found, and hiding them under the bed. I jerked the quilt down so it brushed against the floorboards, and then moved back to Lockwood.

"Now you can open." I said, and was greeted by dark brown eyes blinking at me. He sat down cross-legged as I began showing him the Aztec mask.

"Amazing." Lockwood breathed. "The colors are pretty." He turned to face me. "Beautiful, in fact."

The room was getting rather warm. I coughed. "And here is a dreamcatcher." I said, holding up the circular object. It's glossy strings gleamed in the faint light of the dusty room. "No physic charge, but it is nice. Maybe it can go in a museum."

Lockwood's eyes didn't stray from mine. "Lucy…" he said finally, the dreamcatcher cutting geometric shadows across his face.

I got up from off the ground and opened the windows, the harsh spring light filling up the whole room.

_"Holly's here."_ George called muffled from downstairs. I walked pass Lockwood and I opened the door. "Let's go." I said. "I'll go through the boxes later."

I walked out, hearing a faint sigh from Lockwood before he got up as well.


	3. Ghost-Touched

On the day of the Twickenham haunting, I fell mysteriously ill.

"Perhaps we should postpone the case." Holly said, concernedly, as she put a hand over mine. I lied, bed-stricken, with a burning fever, while the company was with me.

"No, no," I coughed harshly. "You guys can do it without me. You're a great Agent, Hol. You'll be fine."

She beamed at that.

"This was supposed to be a reunion." George said grumpily. Quill and Lockwood stood just outside of my room.

"Seriously." I said airily. "Have fun. I'd love to go—" At this point my voice broke regretfully. Holly put a hand on my shoulder.

They all filed out of my room, except for George. George had been acting as somber as anyone else, but as soon as Quill had left, parting with a "Feel better, Luce" George's face morphed into one akin to the one he wore when someone had taken his morning muffin without asking.

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?" George said, crossing his hands over his chest.

"I don't know what you're" _cough, cough_ "talking about."

"Okay." George said unblinkingly. "Don't tell me. Just don't do anything dangerous, Lucy. I don't think Lockwood could stand it."

With those ominous words, he left.

I didn't have to worry about Lockwood- I'd be back from the Other Side before they captured their source. Iron and silver chains were by my dresser should I need them.

As soon as their cab left, I got up from bed, and went straight downstairs. In an old leather chest, we kept all of our spirit-capes, including all of the Orpheus's society's stash. I opened it up, and lifted them all out. They shimmered, pooling over my arms. Walking into my own room, I took all of the sources I had encountered. With that, I stuffed the capes into a box, and threw the box behind my bed, but not before I choose the feathery one that was Lockwood's. The feathered one was reliable and probably the best—I knew it wouldn't fail me now.

I threw the cape over my shoulders, along with putting on gloves. This next part was harder—I had to individually smash each source. The ghosts rose up, and a faintly portal teeming with Other-Light, appeared before me.

I took a deep breath, before stepping in.

It was bitterly cold. Small crystals began forming on my cheeks. As soon as I entered the Other Side, my head felt clearer. I blinked, taking in my room, devoid of light and color. And where the charred skull was, on my bedside table, hovered a dark-haired youth. So he was still tied to his source... holding on to it. For what?

I opened my mouth but closed it quickly. The boy was more solid than I had ever seen him. He watched me unfathomably, with emotion.

_"Lucy… speechless? I'd have never believed it_." The youth said finally.

I said nothing.

_"So you came. Took you long enough. Grown tired of Lockwood so soon?"_

I merely gazed at him. And suddenly, the skull moved forward, sort of gliding over the wood, before stopping before me. Snowflakes grew on my lashes, but still, I didn't seem to feel the cold. The boy looked keenly at my face, raising an eyebrow.

_"Well now, Lucy. What do you want me to say?"_

"A thank you would be in order." I said stiffly.

His face broke into a smirk.

_"Alright—thank you. It is nice to chat with you again, I've been missing our little conversations. But this time, you've come to me. _Here_ of all places."_

I swallowed. "You said my name. In my room, two nights ago. You sounded—"

_"In agony? Torture? Like a damsel in distress? Well, that's exactly what I was. Because I couldn't leave without seeing you first."_

"Leave?" I croaked.

_"You've said it for far too long. I'm a ghost. I don't belong here. I think it's about time to move on, don't you, love?"_

"Move on?" I whispered.

_"You really don't think _this _is the Other Side, do you? "_ He snorted ."This_ is just a pit stop, before we go Beyond. Before we go to the real Other Side, Heaven or Hell. Whatever it is, _this _isn't it." _

"You don't have to go." I said, my voice cracking. "You always have a place at Lockwood and Co. Stay with us."

_"I don't like sharing a house with Cubbins." _He quipped, but his face softened. _"Goodbye, Lucy."_

My throat closed up. I couldn't believe it. I was loosing a type-three ghost, a companion, I was loosing _the skull._

"G-goodbye, dear skull." I said softly.

There was a long silence. The skull regarded me with dark eyes. Then his face contorted and he gave out a sudden whoop of outrage. **_"WHAT?!"_**

The sudden blast of psychic energy shocked me. I stepped back.

_"You're not going to even fight for me? Bend down on one knee? C'mon now, show some remorse, woman!"_

I blinked. "Excuse me? You're the one leaving!"

_"And you're absolutely devastated that I am! I've seen signposts look sadder than you!"_

"Well stay!" I barked back. "I_ want_ you to stay. I need you!"

But he was already leaving, walking through the walls, and sinking through floors.

"Wait! Skull, please!" I called frantically. I started running, my joints seizing up from the cold.

I banged around dark Portland Row, I looked in every room. I ran out into the street, desperately calling for the skull. Faint glimmers were on the horizon, and they appeared to be getting closer. I ran in the opposite direction. I glanced up suddenly, sensing his presence, and saw a shape on the rooftop. Cursing, I began climbing up the side of the crumbling building, my shoes scraping against the bricks. My hands were scraped and bloody messes, but I couldn't care less. The Other Side seemed to have sealed up my cuts, but left by skin freezing. Heaving myself over, I crawled up onto the roof, where the skull sat, staring out at the sky, with a broken expression.

"Skull?" I said quietly. He did not turn to face me.

"Skull, I will miss you. I traveled to the other side for you! You mean a lot to me." As he was silent, I continued to ramble. "You're insufferable, you're malevolent, but you're mine, and you've saved my skin more times than I can count. I need you back."

He let out a rancorous snort.

I sighed. At least no one was looking. I bent down on one knee. Tears pricked my eyes. "I want you skull, can't you see that?" I was beginning to get angry. "I've risked my life for you to get you back. Doesn't that mean anything? I'm risking my life now!"

He stared into the empty sky.

"Damn it, skull!" I shouted. "After all we've been together? Do I mean nothing to you?"

_"You once asked me what tied me to this world, why I stayed put in my jar. Why I didn't move on, or whatever it is we ghosts do. Well, it was you. You, Lucy, mean everything to me, in all my life- and death. I wasn't afraid of _death_. I didn't want to leave you. Obviously, the feeling isn't reciprocated." _

"What, what do you—" My scowl froze, I left my sentence dangling in shock.

I realized that I didn't _want_ the skull to leave me. We were together, unlikely companions, the severed links between life and death binding us. I picked my jaw back off of the ground.

"I would do it." I said quietly, hating the words I was about to say. "If I could, I would go to the Other Side with you. I know that's what you want me to do, to go Beyond Dark London. And I would. But I have other things that tie me to Earth, my friends, my family—"

_"—Lockwood."_

"—Lockwood. But you're the one who I'd be with. You've seen me at my best, and you've known me at my worst. Come back with me to Portland Row." I pleaded. "And If I live, longer than everyone else, then I'll go to the Other Side with you." I moved closer to the ghost. "I promise."

The skull stared at me. He struggled, with some other internal emotion, his eyes were dark but had a glimmer of something in them. He looked at me, right at me, with agony, with torture. And then he finally looked away. _"I can't."_

"What d'you mean? I thought I was all that mattered to you, in life and in death—"

_"—In sickness and in heath, too."_ He smiled bitterly. "_But I can't. My source is too damaged, in that fight with Marissa. I'm scarcely tied to it. I could barely whisper your name the other night. Lucy Lucy, Lucy. If I could return back into that skull, I would, Lucy, believe me. As it is, my time here in Dark London is short, and so is yours."_ He gestured to the ghosts that were floating below the building, waiting for me. _"You attract all sorts of the wrong people, don't you?"_ He chuckled, gazing at me.

The ghost's cheeks suddenly darkened, his other-light dimmed as leaned in, ever so gently pressing his lips against mine. He was translucent- barely there.

Bone-freezing cold reverberated throughout my bones at his touch. I trembled. _Why wasn't I being ghost-touched?_ I wondered wildly as he kissed me. _How is this possible?_ Other thoughts also passed through my mind.

And then he leaned away, the familiar smirk back, but it was melancholic. His finger brushed off the frozen tears on my face, careful not to touch my skin.

_"In life and in death, Lucy."_ He said darkly. _"I'll be waiting for you."_ And with that, he jumped off the building, falling to the street, and gesturing to the ghosts beside him. He turned to give a cheery little wave, but his own face was scrunched up, and he quickly turned away.

I sat on that building, fresh tears falling like morning dew, like twinkling stars. I tried to suppress my sobs, as I climbed down from the building, as I walked into dark Portland Row, as I stepped through the portal, as I stumbled into my freezing room. I finally burst into sobs, collapsing on the floor, the warmth of the room feeling scorching hot against my skin. I threw a nearby silver chain over the broken sources, and the portal disappeared.

I shakily got up and went to walk out of the door, but someone blocked my path. I lifted my heavy eyes.

"Hello." said Lockwood, leaning in the doorframe.

I fainted.


	4. Promises

The bed was very warm, very soft. I groaned, and pulled myself closer to the sheets, closing my eyes. My head throbbed, everything ached.

After a while, I opened my eyes, while moving around to get myself comfortable, my eyes fell on Lockwood, who was watching me intently in a chair. His arms were crossed. A tight sort of darkness obscured his eyes.

"You were in the Other Side for days, Lucy." He said, finally. "And you hid the spirit capes so I couldn't go in to save you."

"Oh." I winced. "Well, about that."

"_'About that_?'" Lockwood's voice shook dramatically, it was difficult to understand him. "About what? About you making an illegal trip to the Other Side? About going on your own? About not telling me?"

"I guess all of them." Nonchalance was my only hope now- I _had_ to play this down.

"Why didn't you go with me?" He cried.

"I can handle myself."

"You came back freezing, lips blue. Your hair is _white_, Lucy! You were so exhausted you passed out."

"I didn't tell you, Lockwood, because I thought you'd say no. Wait—scratch that. You'd want to come with me, because you're suicidal! It was something I had to do on my own."

"If you had just told me, Lucy—"

"Next time I will, Lockwood."

Lockwood fell to his knees by the bed. "Will you tell me why you went to the Other Side in the first place?"

I looked away. "I went to see the skull."

"The skull?" His eyebrows shot up. "It was there?"

"Yes." I said. "He was waiting for me."

"But it's gone now?"

"Yes."

He was gone, and I didn't even know his name.

We were silent for a while, the birds in the trees chirping. Sunlight streamed through the window. Lockwood put his finger on my lips, causing goosebumps to travel all along my face.

"Lucy… your lips..." Lockwood said, the darkness still obscuring his eyes. He clenched his lips. On impulse, I raised my hand and cupped his face. This did calm him down slightly- although he flinched at the iciness of my hand.

"Promise me you won't do anything dangerous again without me?" He said finally.

"I expect you to make that same promise."

"Okay. I promise you, Lucy."

"I promise you, Lockwood."

Again, we lapsed into silence. I snuggled deeper into the covers. "Lockwood?"

"Hm?"

"Who's bed is this?"

At this, Lockwood chuckled slightly.

"The bed you've been sleeping in is mine, Lucy. But you're welcome to use it as well."

Life moved on. Ghosts cases were solved, Holly tried (to her dismay) to cajole everyone into eating seed-muffins (me and George ended up feeding ours to the birds when she turned her head) and George still hogged the hot water.

My hair had thick streaks of white in it, and my lips were constantly icy and hard. My third (and hopefully last) trip to the Other Side had permanently changed my mind and body.

When Lockwood and Co. had arrived back into Portland Row for a spot of coffee and cake, (The murdered lover had been especially violent- everyone had arrived in tired but good spirits) they had arrived to the whole place encased in ice, shades and lurkers floating around the borders of the house. Lockwood had rushed in, silver rapier gleaming, and had found the spirit-portal in my room. Everyone had ransacked the house for the spirit capes, but- for fear of what horrors were hidden underneath- had neglected to check under my bed. According to Holly, Lockwood had waited in my room. At one point, he seemed to be going in himself, with or without a spirit cape. Quill had held him back.

"You must never do that again!" Holly had scolded. She then pulled me close into a hug. "Oh, I couldn't _stand_ it if you died. I'm _so_ glad you're back."

"George?" I asked one day, in the library. Sunlight streamed in, playing along the gold binding on the book George was currently reading, as he sat behind the desk. "If a ghost were to touch a human, is there any chance that human wouldn't be ghost-touched?"

"What an odd question." George said. He pushed his glasses against his eyes. " I might discuss that with the Orpheus Society. I think, in theory, if a ghost were to dim down it's energy, it would be possible for a few seconds. Perhaps."

I nodded and turned to leave the library.

"Oh and Lucy?"

I paused, my hand on the doorknob.

"It must've been one hell of a kiss."


End file.
